A journey round my room

A JOURNEY ROUND MY ROOM.

A JOURNEY

ROUND MY ROOM
BY XAVIER DE MAISTRE

TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH WITH A NOTICE
OF THE author's LIFE

By H. a.

LONDON

LONGMANS, GREEN, READER, AND DYER.
1871

H. O. HOUGHTON AND CO., PRINTERS, RIVERSIDE PRESS,

CAMBRIDGE.

4

4

TO

a A.

H. A.

Do

PREFACE.

JI^^HE author of the "Voyage autour
de ma Chambre" was the younger
brother of Count Joseph de Maistre, a well-
known writer upon political and philosoph-
ical subjects. Chambery was the place of
their birth, but their family was of French
origin. Both brothers were officers in the
Sardinian army ; and when Savoy was
conquered by the French, Xavier de
Maistre sought an asylum in Saint Peters-
burg, where his brother resided in the
capacity of envoy from the court of
Sardinia. Xavier entered the Russian
army, distinguished himself in the war

iv Preface.

against Persia, and attained the rank of
major-general.

Our interest in the " Voyage " is height-
ened by our knowledge that it was actually
written during De Maistre's forty-two days'
arrest at Turin, referred to in the third
chapter. He sent the manuscript, which
he regarded as a mere playful effort of
his imagination, for his brother's perusal.
Joseph was pleased with the book; and
Xavier, who had an almost filial affection
for his brother, was soon afterwards agree-
ably surprised by receiving, in place of his
manuscript, the " Voyage " in print.

This success encouraged him to begin a
sequel to the " Voyage." Joseph, however,
disapproved of this new attempt. The
" Expedition Nocturne " was, notwith-
standing, finishedj and was pubHshed some
years later.

Preface. v

Xavier de Maistre's next production
(1811) was *'Le Ldpreux de la Cit6
d'Aoste," a very touching and gracefully
written narrative. It occupies but a few
pages ; and, as it is to be found in almost
every good anthology of French literature,
is perhaps the best known of our author's
works.

His other books are " Les Prisonniers
du Caucase" (18 15) and"LaJeune Sibe-
rienne," both of them charming works,
containing faithful pictures of domestic
scenes with which we are little familiar
through other sources.

From his childhood Xavier de Maistre
was devoted to painting. He deservedly
gained considerable reputation as a painter
of miniature portraits and landscapes.

Nor did he neglect science while devo-

vi Preface.

ting himself to art and literature. He
applied himself so successfully to the study
of chemistry that he was able to communi-
cate several valuable " M^moires " to the
Academy of Turin, of which he was a
member.

Xavier de Maistre died (1852) at an
advanced age in his adopted country,
where he had married, and which he only
quitted once, for a brief season.

Some apology for publishing this trans-
lation is perhaps necessary.

Although in France the " Voyage " re-
tains the high esteem in which it has been
held for half a century, it is hardly known in
England, except by those who are familiar
with the French language and literature.

Preface, vii

During the last twenty years the propor-
tion of educated persons in this country
who are unable to enjoy a French book in
the original has greatly decreased. Still,
there are some to whom a translation of
this delightful work may be acceptable.

To them I offer the pleasant labor of a
few leisure hours ; but not without assuring
them that, in endeavoring to reproduce
faithfully the author's ideas, I have felt at
every paragraph how true it is that " le
style ne se traduit paSy' — "style is untrans-
latable."

The headings of the chapters are not
De Maistre's. They appear in Tardieu's
pretty little edition of the Voyage." The
miniatures, by M. Veyssier, are from the
same source.

H. A.

Barnes, Surrey.

Autumn y 1871.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER PAf:F.

Preface iii

I. A Book of Discoveries ( Vignette.) . i

II. Eulogy of the Journey ... 4

III. Laws and Customs ... 7

IV. Latitude and Topography . . 11
V. The Bed ...... 14

VI. For Metaphysicians . . . -17

VIL The Soul 21

VIII. The Animal 24

IX. Philosophy 26

X. The Portrait 29

XI. Rose and White .... 33
XII. The Hillock ( Vignette) ... 36

XIII. A Halt 37

XIV. JOANNETTI 38

XV. A Difficulty 42

b

X Contents.

CHAPTER PAGE

XVI. Solution ( Vignette) .... 45

XVII. Rose 49

XVIII. Reserve 52

XIX. A Tear 54

XX. Albert and Charlotte . . . 57

XXI. A Friend [Vignette) .... 59

XXII. Jenny 64

XXIII. The Picture Gallery ... 66

XXIV. Painting and Music ... 69

XXV. An Objection 72

XXVI. Raphael 75

XXVII. A Perfect Picture .... 78
XXVIII. The Upset Carriage ... 81

XXIX. Misfortune 87

XXX. Charity 91

XXXI. Inventory 93

XXXII. Misanthropy 95

XXXIII. Consolation 98

XXXIV. Correspondence .... 99

XXXV. The Withered Rose ( Vignette) . . 104

XXXVI. The Library icq

XXXVII. Another World . . . .113

Contents. xi

CHAPTER PAGE

XXXVIII. The Bust ii8

XXXIX. A Dialogue 121

XL. Imagination 129

XLL The Travelling-coat . . .132

XLII. Aspasia's Buskin ( Vignette) • . 137

Liberty -150

printer is responsible. ^ manuscnpt for ,yliich the

Hne t :"riTr :::':;r'T - -

78 line 12. ' ' " m^oramuscs for ignorant on page

IL A.

A Book of Discoveries.
HAT more glorious than to open

^ ^ for one's self a new career, — to
appear suddenly before the learned world
with a book of discoveries in one's hand,
like an unlooked-for comet blazing in the
empyrean !

No longer will I keep my book in ob-
scurity. Behold it, gentlemen ; read it !
I have undertaken and performed a forty-
two days' journey round my room. The
interesting observations I have made, and
the constant pleasure I have experienced
all along the road, made me wish to pub-
lish my travels ; the certainty of being

2 A jfourney Round my Room.

useful decided the matter. And when I
think of the number of unhappy ones to
whom I offer a never failing resource for
weary moments, and a balm for the ills
they suffer, my heart is filled with inex-
pressible satisfaction. The pleasure to be
found in travelling round one's room is
sheltered from the restless jealousy of
men, and is independent of Fortune.

Surely there is no being so miserable
as to be without a retreat to which he
can withdraw and hide himself from the
world. Such a hiding-place will contain
all the preparations our journey requires.

Every man of sense will, I am sure,
adopt my system, whatever may be his
peculiar character or temperament. Be
he miserly or prodigal, rich or poor, young
or old, born beneath the torrid zone or
near the poles, he may travel with me.
Among the immense family of men who
throng the earth, there is not one, no, not

A Book of Discoveries. 3

one (I mean of those who inhabit rooms),
who, after reading this book can refuse his
approbation of the new mode of travelhng
I introduce into the world.

II.

Eulogy of the yotirney.

T MIGHT fairly begin the eulogium of my
^ journey by saying it has cost me noth-
ing. This point merits attention. It will
gain for it the praise and welcome of people
of moderate means. And not of these
only : there is another class with whom its
success will, on this account, be even more
certain. " And who are they " you ask.
Why, the rich, to be sure. And then,
again, what a comfort the new mode of trav-
elling will be to the sick ; they need not
fear bleak winds or change of weather.
And what a thing, too, it will be for cow-
ards ; they will be safe from pitfalls or
quagmires. Thousands who hitherto did
not dare, others who were not able, and

Eulogy of the yourney. 5

others to whom it never occurred to think
of such a thing as going on a journey, will
make up their minds to follow my example.
Surely, the idlest person will not hesitate to
set out with me on a pleasure jaunt which
will cost him neither trouble nor money.
Come then, let us start ! Follow me, all
ye whom the pangs of despised love " or
the slights of friends keep within doors, —
follow me far from the meannesses and un-
kindnesses of men. Be ye unhappy, sick,
or weary, follow me. Ye idle ones, arouse
ye, one and all. And ye who brood over
gloomy projects of reform and retreat, on
account of some infidelity, — amiable an-
chorites of an evening's duration, who re-
nounce the world for your boudoir, —
come, and be led by me to banish these
dark thoughts ; you lose a moment's pleas
ure without gaining a moment's wisdom !
Deign to accompany me on my journey.
We will jog cheerfully and by easy stages

6 A yourney Round my Room.

along the road of travellers who have seen
both Rome and Paris. No obstacle shall
hinder our way ; and giving ourselves up
gaily to Imagination, we will follow her
whithersoever it may be her good pleasure
to lead us.

III.

Laws and Customs,

T T OW many inquisitive people there
^ are in the world ! I am sure my
reader wants to know why the journey
round my room has lasted forty-two days
rather than forty-three, or any other num-
ber. But how am I to tell him what I do
not know myself "> All I can say is, that if
the work is too long for him, it is not my
fault that it was not shorter. I dismiss all
the pride a traveller may fairly indulge in,
and candidly declare I should have been
well contented, for my part, with a single
chapter. It is quite true that I made
myself as comfortable as possible in my
room ; but still, alas, I was not my own
master in the matter of leaving it. Nay,

8 A Journey Round my Room.

more, I even think that had it not been for
the intervention of certain powerful persons
who interested themselves in me, and to-
wards whom I entertain a lively sense of
gratitude, I should have had ample time for
producing a folio volume ; so prejudiced in
my favor were the guardians who made me
travel round my room.

And yet, intelligent reader, see how
wrong these men were ; and understand
clearly, if you can, the argument I am
about to put before you.

Can there be anything more natural or
more just than to draw your sword upon a
man who happens to tread on your toe, who
lets slip a bitter word during a moment's
vexation caused by your own thoughtless-
ness, or who has had the misfortune to gain
favor in the sight of your lady-love

Under such or like circumstances, you
betake yourself to a meadow, and there, like
Nicole and the " Bourgeois Gentilhomme,"

Laws and Customs. 9

you try to give the fourth cut while your
adversary parries tierce ; and, that ven-
geance may be fully satisfied, you present
your naked breast to him, thus running the
risk of being killed by your enemy, in order
to be avenged.

It is evident that such a custom is most
reasonable. And yet, we sometimes meet
with people who disapprove of so praise-
worthy a course. But what is about of a
piece with the rest of the business is, that
the very persons who condemn the course
we have described, and who would have
it regarded as a grave error, would judge
still more harshly any one who refused to
commit it. More than one unlucky wight
has, by endeavoring to conform to their
opinion, lost his reputation and his liveli-
hood. So that, when people are so unfor-
tunate as to have an affair of honor to set-
tle, it would not be a bad plan to cast lots
to see whether it shall be arranged accord-

lo A yourney Round my Room.

ing to law, or according to fashion. And
as law and fashion are at variance, the
judges might decide upon their sentence
by the aid of dice, — and probably it is to
some such decision as this that we should
have to refer in order to explain how it
came about that my journey lasted just
two and forty days.

IV.

Latitude and Topography,

IV yT Y room is situated in latitude 48"^
^ east, according to the measurement
of Father Beccaria. It Ues east and west,
and, if you keep very close to the wall,
forms a parallelogram of thirty-six steps
round. My journey will, however, be
longer than this ; for I shall traverse my
room up and down and across, without rule
or plan. I shall even zig-zag about, follow-
ing, if needs be, every possible geometrical
line. I am no admirer of people who are
such masters of their every step and every
idea that they can say : " To-morrow I shall
make three calls, write four letters, and
finish this or that work." So open is my
soul to all sorts of ideas, tastes, and feel-

12 A Journey Round my Room.

ings ; so greedily does it absorb whatever
comes first, that .... but why should
it deny itself the delights that are scattered
along life's hard path } So few and far be-
tween are they, that it would indeed be
senseless not to stop, and even turn aside,
to gather such as are placed within our
reach. Of these joys, none, to my think-
ing, is more attractive than following the
course of one's fancies as a hunter follows
his game, without pretending to keep to
any set route. Hence, when I travel in
my room, I seldom keep to a straight line.
From my table I go towards a picture
which is placed in a corner ; thence I set
out in an oblique direction for the door;
and then, although on starting I had in-
tended to return to my table, yet, if I
chance to fall in with my arm-chair on the
way, I at once, and most unceremoniously,
take up my quarters therein. By the by,
what a capital article of furniture an arm-

Latitude and Topography. 13

chair is, and, above all, how convenient to
a thoughtful man. In long winter evenings
it is ofttimes sweet, and always prudent, to
stretch yourself therein, far from the bustle
of crowded assemblies. A good fire, some
books and pens ; what safeguards these
against en7iui ! And how pleasant, again,
to forget books and pens in order to stir
the fire, while giving one's self up to some
agreeable meditation, or stringing together
a few rhymes for the amusement of friends,
as the hours glide by and fall into eternity,
without making their sad passage felt.

V.

The Bed.

T^T EXT to my arm-chair, as we go
^ ^ northward, my bed comes into sight.
It is placed at the end of my room, and
forms the most agreeable perspective. It
is very pleasantly situated, and the earliest
rays of the sun play upon my curtains.
On fine summer days I see them come
creeping, as the sun rises, all along the
whitened wall. The elm-trees opposite my
windows divide them into a thousand pat-
terns as they dance upon my bed, and,
reflecting its rose-and-white color, shed a
charming tint around. I hear the con-
fused twitter of the swallows that have
taken possession of my roof, and the war-
bling of the birds that people the elms.

The Bed. 15

Then do a thousand smiling fancies fill my
soul ; and in the whole universe no being
enjoys an awakening so delightful, so
peaceful, as mine.

I confess that I do indeed revel in these
sweet moments, and prolong as far as I can
the pleasure it gives me to meditate in the
comfortable warmth of my bed. What
scene can adapt itself so well to the imagi-
nation, and awaken such delicious ideas, as
the couch on which my fancy floats me into
the forgetfulness of self! Here it is that
the mother, intoxicated with joy at the
birth of a son, forgets her pangs. Hither
it is that fantastic pleasures, the fruit of
fancy or of hope, come to agitate us. In a
word, it is here that during one half of a
life-time we forget the annoyances of the
other half

But what a host of thoughts, some agree-
able, some sad, throng my brain at once, —
strange minglings of terrible and delicious
pictures !

1 6 A Journey Round my Room.

A bed sees us born, and sees us die. It
is the ever changing scene upon which the
human race play by turns interesting
dramas, laughable farces, and fearful trage- ^
dies. It is a cradle decked with flowers.
A throne of love. A sepulchre.

VI.

For Metaphysicians,

'T^HIS chapter is for metaphysicians, and
for metaphysicians only. It will throw
a great light upon man's nature. It is the
prism with which to analyze and decom-
pose the human faculties, by separating the
animal force from the pure rays of intellect.

It would be impossible for me to explain
how I came to burn my fingers at the very
onset of my journey without expounding
to my reader my system of the Soul and
the Animal ^ And besides, this meta-
physical discovery has so great an influ-

1 Bete is not translatable here. The English word ani-
mal is hardly nearer than beast. Bete is a milder word
than beasty and when used metaphorically, implies silli-
ness rather than brutality. In some cases our creature
would translate it, Pauvre betel Poor creature I

2

1 8 A Journey Round my Room.

ence on my thoughts and actions, that it
would be very difficult to understand this
book if I did not begin by giving the key
to its meaning.

Various observations have enabled me to
perceive that man is made up of a soul and
an animal. These two beings are quite
distinct, but they are so dovetailed one into
the other, or upon the other, that the soul
must, if we would make the distinction be-
tween them, possess a certain superiority
over the animal.

I have it from an old professor (and this
is as long ago as I can remember), that
Plato used to call matter the other. This
is all very well ; but I prefer giving this
name par excellence to the animal which is
joined to our soul. This substance it is
which is really the other, and which plays
such strange tricks upon us. It is easy
enough to see, in a sort of general way,
that man is twofold. But this, they say, is

For Metaphysicians. 19

because he is made up of soul and body ;
and they accuse the body of I don't know
how many things, and very inconsistently,
seeing that it can neither feel nor think.
It is upon the animal that the blame should
fall ; upon that sensitive being, which,
while it is perfectly distinct from the soul,
is a real individual, enjoying a separate
existence, with its own tastes, inclinations,
and will, and which only ranks higher than
other animals, because it is better educated
than they, and is provided with more per-
fect organs.

Ladies and gentlemen ! Be as proud of
your intellect as you please, but be very
suspicious of the other, especially when
you are together.

I have experimented I know not how oft,
upon the union of these two heterogeneous
creatures. I have, for instance, clearly as-
certained that the soul can make herself
obeyed by the animal, and that, by way of

20 A Journey Round my Room.

retaliation, the animal makes the soul act
contrary to its own inclination. The one,
as a rule, has the legislative, the other
the executive power, but these two are
often at variance. The great business of a
man of genius is to train his animal well, in
order that it may go alone, while the soul,
delivered from this troublesome companion,
can raise herself to the skies.

But this requires illustration. When,
sir, you are reading a book, and an agree-
able idea suddenly enters your imagination,
your soul attaches herself to the new idea
at once, and forgets the book, while your
eyes follow mechanically the words and
lines. You get through the page without
understanding it, and without remembering
what you have read. Now this is because
your soul, having ordered her companion to
read to her, gave no warning of the short
absence she contemplated, so that the
OTHER went on reading what the soul no
longer attended to.

VII.

The Soul.

T S not this clear to you ? Let us illus-
trate it still farther.
One day last summer at an appointed
hour, I was wending my way to court. I
had been sketching all day, and my soul,
choosing to meditate upon painting, left
the duty of taking me to the king's palace
to the animal.

How sublime, thought my soul, is the
painter's art ! Happy is he who is touched
by the aspect of nature, and does not
depend upon his pictures for a livehhood ;
who does not paint solely as a pastime, but
struck with the majesty of a beautiful form,
and the wonderful way in which the light
with its thousand tints plays upon the

22 A yourney Round my Room.

human face, strives to imitate in his works
the wonderful effects of nature ! Happy,
too, is the painter who is led by love of
landscape into solitary paths, and who can
make his canvas breathe the feeling of sad-
ness with which he is inspired by a gloomy
wood or a desert plain. His productions
imitate and reproduce nature. He creates
new seas and dark caverns into which the
sun has never peered. At his command,
coppices of evergreens spring into life, and
the blue of heaven is reflected on his pic-
tures. He darkens the air, and we hear the
roar of the storm. At another time he
presents to the eye of the wondering be-
holder the delightful plains of ancient Sici-
ly : startled nymphs flee the pursuit of a
satyr through the bending reeds ; temples
of stately architecture raise their grand
fronts above the sacred forest that sur-
rounds them. Imagination loses itself
among the still paths of this ideal country.

The Soul.

23

Bluish backgrounds blend with the sky,
and the whole landscape, reproduced in the
waters of a tranquil river, forms a scene
that no tongue can describe.

While my soul was thus reflecting, the
other went its way. Heaven knows whither !
Instead of going to court, according to or-
ders, it took such a turn to the left, that my
soul just caught it up at Madame de Haut-
castel's door, full half a mile from the Palais
Royal !

Now I leave the reader to fancy what
might have been the consequence had the
truant visited so beautiful a lady alone.

VIIL

The Animal,

T F it is both useful and agreeable to have
a soul so disengaged from matter that
we can let it travel alone whenever we
please, this has also its disadvantages.
Through this, for instance, I got the burn
I spoke of a few chapters back.

I generally leave my animal to prepare
my breakfast. Its care it is to slice and
toast my bread. My coffee it makes admi-
rably, and helps itself thereto without my
sours concerning herself in the transac-
tion. But this is a very rare and nice per-
formance to execute ; for though it is easy
enough while busied in a mechanical opera-
tion, to think of something quite different,
it is extremely difficult, so to speak, to

The Animal. 25

watch one's self-work, or, if I express myself
systematically, to employ one's soul to ex-
amine the animal's progress, and to watch
its work without taking part in it. This is
the most extraordinary metaphysical feat
a man can execute.

I had rested my tongs on the embers
to toast my bread, and some little time af-
terwards, while my soul was travelling, a
burning stick fell on the hearth : my poor
animal seized the tongs, and I burnt my
fingers.

IX.

Philosophy.

T HOPE I have sufficiently developed my
ideas in the foregoing chapters to fur-
nish you, good reader, with matter for
thought, and to enable you to make discov-
eries along the brilliant career before you.
You cannot be other than highly satisfied
with yourself if you succeed in the long
run in making your soul travel alone. The
pleasure afforded by this power will amply
counterbalance any inconvenience that
may arise from it. What more flattering
delight is there than the being able thus to
expand one's existence, to occupy at once
earth and heaven, to double, so to speak,
one's being ? Is it not man's eternal, insa-
tiable desire to augment his strength and

Philosophy. 27

his faculties, to be where he is not, to
recall the past, and live in the future ? He
would fain command armies, preside over
learned societies, and be the idol of the
fair. And, if he attain to all this, then he
regrets the tranquillity of a rural life, and
envies the shepherd's cot. His plans, his
hopes, are constantly foiled by the ills that
flesh is heir to. He can find happiness
nowhere. A quarter of an hour's journey
with me will show him the way to it.

Ah, why does he not leave to the other
those carking cares and that tormenting am-
bition. Come, my poor friend ! Make but
an effort to burst from thy prison, and from
the height of heaven, whither I am about
to lead thee, from the midst of the celestial
shades, from the empyrean itself, behold
thy animal run along the road to fortune
and honor. See with what gravity it walks
among men. The crowd falls back with
respect, and believe me, none will remark

28 A Journey Round my Room.

that it is alone. The people among whom
it walks care very little whether it has a
soul or not, whether it thinks or not. A
thousand sentimental women will fall des-
perately in love with it without discovering
the defect. It may even raise itself with-
out thy souFs help to the highest favor and
fortune. Nay, I should not be astonished
if, on thy return from the empyrean, thy
soul, on getting home, were to find itself in
the animal of a noble lord.

The Portrait

TDUT you must not let yourself think
^ that instead of keeping my promise
to describe my journey round my room, I
am beating the bush to see how I can
evade the difficulty. This would be a
great mistake on your part. For our jour-
ney is really going on ; and while my soul,
falling back on her own resources, was in
the last chapter threading the mazy paths
of metaphysics, I had so placed myself in
my arm-chair, that its front legs being
raised about two inches from the floor, I
was able, by balancing myself from left to
right, to make way by degrees, and at last,
almost without knowing it, to get close to
the wall, for this is how I travel when not

30 A yoMvney Round my Room.

pressed for time. When there, my hand
possessed itself by a mere mechanical
effort, of the portrait of Madame de Haut-
castel ; and the other amused itself with
removing the dust which covered it. This
occupation produced a feeling of quiet
pleasure, and the pleasure was conveyed
to my soul, lost though it was in the vast
plains of heaven. For it is well to observe
that when the mind is thus travelling in
space, it still keeps linked to the senses by
a secret and subtle chain ; so that, without
being distracted from its occupations, it
can participate in the peaceful joys of the
OTHER. But should this pleasure reach a
certain pitch, or should the soul be struck
by some unexpected vision, it forthwith de-
scends swift as lightning, and resumes its
place.

And that is just what happened to me
while dusting the picture. Whilst the
cloth removed the dust, and brought to

The Portrait. 31

light those flaxen curls and the wreaths of
roses that crowned them, my soul, from the
sun, whither she had transported herself,
felt a slight thrill of pleasure, and partook
sympathetically of the joy of my heart.
This joy became less indistinct and more
lively, when, by a single sweep, the beauti-
ful forehead of that charming face was
revealed. My soul was on the point of
leaving the skies in order to enjoy the spec-
tacle. But had she been in the Elysian
Fields, had she been engaged in a seraphic
concert, she could not have stayed a single
second longer when her companion, glow-
ing with the work, seized a proffered
sponge, and passed it at once over the eye-
brows and the eyes, over the nose, over
that mouth, ah heavens ! — my heart beats
at the thought — over the chin and neck !
It was the work of an instant. The whole
face seemed suddenly recalled into exist-
ence. My soul precipitated herself like a

32 A Journey Round my Room.

falling star from the sky. She found the
OTHER in a state of ecstasy, which she her-
self increased by sharing it. This strange
and unexpected position caused all thought
of time and space to vanish from my mind.
I lived for a moment in the past, and, con-
trary to the order of nature, I grew young
again. Yes, before me stands that adored
one ; *tis she, her very self! She smiles
on me, she will speak and own her love.
That glance ! . . . . come, let me press
thee to my heart, O, my loved one, my other
self! Partake with me this intoxicating
bliss ! The moment was short, but ravish-
ing. Cool reason soon reasserted her sway,
and in the twinkling of an eye I had grown a
whole year older. My heart grew icy cold,
and I found myself on a level with the
crowd of heedless ones who throng the
earth.

XI.

Rose and White.

T)UT we must not anticipate events.

^ My hurry to communicate to the
reader my system of the soul and animal
caused me to abandon the description of
my bed earlier than I ought to have done.
When I have completed this description, I
will continue my journey where I inter-
rupted it in the last chapter. But let me
pray you to bear in mind that we left one
half of my ego four steps from my bureau,
close to the wall, and holding the portrait
of Madame de Hautcastel.

In speaking of my bed, I forgot to recom-
mend every man to have, if possible, a bed
with rose and white furniture. There can
be no doubt that colors so far affect us as

3

34 A Journey Round my Room.

to make us cheerful or sad, according to
their hues. Now, rose and white are two
colors that are consecrated to pleasure.
Nature in bestowing them upon the rose
has given her the crown of Flora's realm.
And when the sky would announce to the
world a fine day, it paints the clouds at
sunrise with this charming tint.

One day we were with some difficulty
climbing a steep pathway. The amiable
Rosalie, whose agility had given her wings,
was far in front. We could not overtake
her. All on a sudden, having reached the
top of a hillock, she turned toward us to
take breath, and smiled at our slowness.
Never, perhaps, did the two colors whose
praise I proclaim so triumph. Her burn-
ing cheeks, her coral lips, her alabaster
neck, were thrown into relief by the verdure
around, and entranced us all. We could
not but pause and gaze upon her. I will
not speak of her blue eyes, or of the glance

Rose and White. 35

she cast upon us, because this would be go-
ing from the subject, and because I dwell
upon these memories as little as possible.
Let it suffice that I have given the best
illustration conceivable of the superiority
of these two colors over all others, and of
their influence upon the happiness of man.

Here will I stop for to-day. Of what
subject can I treat which would not now be
insipid } What idea is not effaced by this
idea } I do not even know when I shall be
able to resume my work. If I go on with
it at all, and if the reader desire to see its
termination, let him betake himself to the
angel who distributes thoughts, and beg
him to cease to mingle with the discon-
nected thoughts he showers upon me at
every moment the image of that hillock.

If this precaution is not taken, my jour-
ney will be a failure.

XII.

The Hillock.

XIII.

A Halt.

TV /r Y efforts are useless. I must sojourn
^ here awhile, whether I will or not.
The "Halt!'' is irresistible.

XIV.

yoannetti.

T REMARKED that I was singularly
^ fond of meditating when influenced by
the agreeable warmth of my bed ; and that
its agreeable color added not a little to the
pleasure I experienced.

That I may be provided with this en-
joyment, my servant is directed to enter
my room half an hour before my time for
rising. I hear him moving about my room
with a light step, and stealthily managing
his preparations. This noise just suffices
to convey to me the pleasant knowledge
that I am slumbering, — a delicate pleasure
this, unknown to most men. You are just
awake enough to know you are not entirely
so, and to make a dreamy calculation that

JoannettL 39

the hour for business and worry is still in
the sand-glass of time. Gradually my man
grows noisier ; it is so hard for him to re-
strain himself, and he knows too that the
fatal hour draws near. He looks at my
watch, and jingles the seals as a warning.
But I turn a deaf ear to him. There is no
imaginable cheat I do not put upon the
poor fellow to lengthen the blissful mo-
ment. I give him a hundred preliminary
orders. He knows that these orders, given
somewhat peevishly, are mere excuses for
my staying in bed without seeming to wish
to do so. But this he affects not to see
through, and I am truly thankful to him.

At last, when I have exhausted all my
resources, he advances to the middle of the
room, and with folded arms, plants himself
there in a perfectly immovable position.
It must be admitted that it would be im-
possible to show disapproval of my idleness
with greater judgment and address. I

40 A Journey Round my Room.

never resist this tacit invitation, but,
stretching out my arms to show I under-
stand him, get up at once.

If the reader will reflect upon the be-
havior of my servant, he will convince
himself that in certain delicate matters of
this kind, simplicity and good sense are
much better than the sharpest wit. I dare
assert that the most studied discourse on
the impropriety of sloth would not make
me spring so readily from my bed as the
silent reproach of Monsieur Joannetti.

This Monsieur Joannetti is a thoroughly
honest fellow, and at the same time just the
man for such a traveller as I. He is accus-
tomed to the frequent journeys of my soul,
and never laughs at the inconsistencies of
the OTHER. He even directs it occasion-
ally when it is alone, so that one might say
it is then conducted by two souls. When
it is dressing, for instance, he will warn it
by a gesture that it is on the point of put-

jfoannettL 41

ting on its stockings the wrong way, or its
coat before its waistcoat.

Many a time has my soul been amused
at seeing poor Joannetti running after this
foohsh creature under the arches of the
citadel, to remind it of a forgotten hat or
handkerchief. One day, I must confess,
had it not been for this faithful servant,
who caught it up just at the bottom of the
staircase, the silly creature would have pre-
sented itself at court without a sword, as
boldly as if it had been the chief gentle-
man-usher, bearing the august rod.

XV.

A Difficulty.
OME, Joannetti/' I said, " hang up

this picture." He had helped to
clean it, and had no more notion than
the man in the moon what had produced
our chapter on the portrait. He it was,
who, of his own accord, held out the wet
sponge, and who, through that seemingly
unimportant act, caused my soul to travel
a hundred millions of leagues in a moment
of time. Instead of restoring it to its
place, he held it to examine it in his turn.
A difficulty, a problem, gave him an inquis-
itive air, which I did not fail to observe.

" Well, and what fault do you find with
that portrait } " said I.
" O, none at all, sir."

A Difficulty. 43

" But come now, you have some remark
to make, I know."

He placed it upright on one of the wings
of my bureau, and then drawing back a
little, " I wish, sir," he said, " that you
would explain how it is that in whatever
part of the room one may be, this portrait
always watches you. In the morning,
when I am making your bed, the face
turns towards me ; and if I move toward
the window, it still looks at me, and follows
me with its eyes as I go about.''

" So that, Joannetti,'' said I, if my room
were full of people, that beautiful lady
would eye every one, on all sides, at once.''

" Just so, sir."

''She would smile on every comer and
goer, just as she would on me } "

Joannetti gave no further answer. I
stretched myself in my easy-chair, and,
hanging down my head, gave myself up to
the most serious meditations. What a ray

44 A Journey Rotmd my Room.

of light fell upon me ! Alack, poor lover !
While thou pinest away, far from thy mis-
tress, at whose side another perhaps, has
already replaced thee ; whilst thou fixest
thy longing eyes on her portrait, imagining
that at least in picture, thou art the sole
being she deigns to regard, — the perfidi-
ous image, as faithless as the original, be-
stows its glances on all around, and smiles
on every one alike !

And in this behold a moral resemblance
between certain portraits and their origi-
nals, which no philosopher, no painter, no
observer, had before remarked.

I go on from discovery to discovery.

XVI.

Solution.

JOANNETTI remained in the attitude I
have described, awaiting the explanation
he had asked of me. I withdrew my head
from the folds of my travelling dress, into
which I had thrust it that I might meditate
more at my ease ; and after a moment's
silence, to enable me to collect my thoughts
after the reflections I had just made, I said,
turning my arm-chair toward him, —

" Do you not see that as a picture is a
plane surface, the rays of light proceeding
from each point on that surface. . . . "
At that explanation, Joannetti stretched

46 A Journey Round my Room.

his eyes to their very widest, while he kept
his mouth half open. These two move-
ments of the human face express, according
to the famous Le Brun, the highest pitch
of astonishment. It was, without doubt,
my animaly that had undertaken this disser-
tation, while my soul was well aware that
Joannetti knew nothing whatever about
plane surfaces and rays of light. The pro-
digious dilatation of his eyelids caused me to
draw back. I ensconced my head in the
collar of my travelling coat, and this so
effectively that I well-nigh succeeded in
altogether hiding it. I determined to dine
where I was. The morning was far ad-
vanced, and another step in my room would
have delayed my dinner until night-fall. I
let myself slip to the edge of my chair, and
putting both feet on the mantel-piece, pa-
tiently awaited my meal. This was a most
comfortable attitude ; indeed, it would be
difficult to find another possessing so many

A Solution. 47

advantages, and so well adapted to the in-
evitable sojourns of a long voyage.

At such moments, Rose, my faithful dog,
never fails to come and pull at the skirts of
my travelling dress that I may take her up.
She finds a very convenient ready-made bed
at the angle formed by the two parts of my
body. A V admirably represents my posi-
tion. Rose jumps to her post if I do not
take her up quickly enough to please her,
and I often find her there without knowing
how she has come. My hands fall into a
position which minister to her well-being,
and this, either through a sympathy exist-
ing between this good-natured creature
and myself, or through the merest chance.
But no, I do not believe in that miserable
doctrine of chance^ — in that unmeaning
word ! I would rather believe in animal
magnetism.

There is such reality in the relations
which exist between these two animals,

48 A yourney Round my Room.

that when out of sheer distraction, I put
my two feet on the mantel-piece and have
no thought at all about a halt^ dinner-time
not being near, Rose, observing this move-
ment, shows by a slight wag of her tail the
pleasure she enjoys. Reserve keeps her in
her place. The other perceives this and is
gratified by it, though quite unable to rea-
son upon its cause. And thus a mute dia-
logue is established between them, a pleas-
ing interchange of sensations which could
not be attributed to simple chance.

XVII.

Rose,

T^O not reproach me for the prolixity
with which I narrate the details of
my journey. This is the wont of travellers.
When one sets out for the ascent of Mont
Blanc, or to visit the yawning tomb of
Empedocles, the minutest particulars are
carefully described. The number of per-
sons who formed the party, the number of
mules, the quality of the food, the excellent
appetite of the travellers, — everything, to
the very stumbling of the quadrupeds, is
carefully noted down for the instruction of
the sedentary world.

Upon this principle, I resolved to speak
of my dog Rose, — an amiable creature for
4

50 A Journey Round my Room.

whom I entertain sincere regard, — and to
devote a whole chapter to her.

We have lived together for six years, and
there has never been any coolness between
us, and if ever any little disputes have
arisen, the fault has been chiefly on my
side, and Rose has always made the first
advances towards reconciliation.

In the evening, if she has been scolded
she withdraws sadly and without a mur-
mur. The next morning at daybreak, she
stands near my bed in a respectful atti-
tude, and at her master's slightest move-
ment, at the first sign of his being awake,
she makes her presence known by rapidly
tapping my little table with her tail.

And why should I refuse my affection to
this good-natured creature that has never
ceased to love me ever since we have lived
together ? My memory would not enable
me to enumerate all the people who have
interested themselves in me but to forget

Rose. 5 1

me. I have had some few friends, several
lady-loves, a host of acquaintances ; and
now I am to all these people as if I had
never lived ; they have forgotten my very
name.

And yet what protestations they made,
what offers of assistance ! Their purse
was at my disposal, and they begged me to
depend upon their eternal and entire friend-
ship !

Poor Rose, who has made me no prom-
ises, renders me the greatest service that
can be bestowed upon humanity, for she
has always loved her master, and lo\es him
still. And this is why I do not hesitate to
say that she shares with my other friends
the affection I feel towards them.

XVIII.

Reserve.

TTTE left Joannetti standing motionless
^ ^ before me, in an attitude of aston-
ishment, awaiting the conclusion of the
sublime explanation I had begun.

When he saw me bury my head in my
dressing-gown, and thus end my disserta-
tion, he did not doubt for a moment that I
had stopped short for lack of resources, and
that he had fairly overcome me by the
knotty question he had plied me with.

Notwithstanding the superiority he had
hereby gained over me, he felt no move-
ment of pride, and did not seek to profit by
his advantage. After a moment's silence,
he took the picture, put it back in its place,
and withdrew softly on tip-toe. He felt

Reserve. 5 3

that his presence was a sort of humiUation
to me, and his dehcacy of feeHng led him
thus to retire unobserved. His behavior
on this occasion interested me greatly, and
gave him a higher place than ever in my
affections. And he will have too, without
doubt, a place in the heart of my readers.
If there be one among them who will re-
fuse it him after reading the next chapter,
such a one must surely have a heart of
stone.

XIX.

A Tear.

"/^ OOD Heavens !" said I to him one
day, " three times have I told you to
buy me a brush. What a head the fellow
has ! " He answered not a word ; nor had
he the evening before made any reply to a
like expostulation. "This is very odd," I
thought to myself, " he is generally so very
particular."

" Well, go and get a duster to wipe my
shoes with," I said angrily. While he was
on his way, I regretted that I had spoken
so sharply, and my anger entirely subsided
when I saw how carefully he tried to re-
move the dust from my shoes without
touching my stockings. " What," I said to
myself, " are there then men who brush

A Tear. 55

others* shoes for money ! " This word
money came upon me like a flash of light-
ning. I suddenly remembered that for a
long time my servant had not had any
money from me.

Joannetti," said I, drawing away my
foot, " have you any change ? "

A smile of justification lit up his face at
the question.

" No, sir ; for the last week I have not
possessed a penny. I have spent all I had
for your little purchases."

" And the brush } I suppose that is

why ... . r

He still smiled. Now, he might very
well have said, " No, sir ; I am not the
empty-headed ass you would make out
your faithful servant to be. Pay me the
one pound two shillings and sixpence half-
penny you owe me, and then I'll buy you
your brush." But no, he bore this ill treat-
ment rather than cause his master- to blush

56 A yourney Round my Room.

at his unjust anger. And may Heaven bless
him ! Philosophers, Christians ! have you
read this ?

Come, Joannetti,'* said I, " buy me the
brush."

" But, sir, will you go like that, with one
shoe clean, and the other dirty ? "

" Go, go ! I replied, " never mind about
the dust, never mind that."

He went out. I took the duster, and
daintily wiped my left shoe, on which a
tear of repentance had fallen.

XX.

Albert and Charlotte.

" I ^HE walls of my room are hung with
engravings and pictures, which adorn
it greatly. I should much like to submit
them to the reader's inspection, that they
might amuse him along the road we have
to traverse before we reach my bureau.
But it is as impossible to describe a picture
well, as to paint one from a description. '

What an emotion he would feel in con-
templating the first drawing that presents
itself! He would see the unhappy Char-
lotte,^ slowly, and with a trembling hand,
wiping Albert's pistols. Dark forebodings,
and all the agony of hopeless, inconsolable
love, are imprinted on her features, while

1 vide Werther, chapter xxviii.

58 A Journey Round my Room.

the cold-hearted Albert, surrounded by
bags of law papers and various old docu-
ments, turns with an air of indifference
towards his friend to bid him good-by.
Many a time have I been tempted to break
the glass that covers this engraving, that I
might tear Albert away from the table, rend
him to pieces, and trample him under foot.
But this would not do away with the
Alberts. There will always be sadly too
many of them in the world. What sensi-
tive man is there who has not such a one
near him, who receives the overflowings of
his soul, the gentle emotions of his heart,
and the flights of his imagination just as
the rock receives the waves of the sea }
Happy is he who finds a friend whose heart
and mind harmonize with his own ; a friend
who adheres to him by likeness of tastes,
feeling, and knowledge ; a friend who is
not the prey of ambition or greediness, who
prefers the shade of a tree to the pomp of a
court ! Happy is he who has a friend !

XXI.

A Friend,

T HAD a friend. Death took him from
^ me. He was snatched away at the be-
ginning of his career, at the moment when
his friendship had become a pressing need
to my heart. We supported one another
in the hard toil of war. We had but one
pipe between us. We drank out of the
same cup. We slept beneath the same
tent. And, amid our sad trials, the spot
where we lived together became to us a
new father-land. I had seen him exposed
to all the perils of a disastrous war. Death
seemed to spare us to each other. His

6o A Journey Round my Room.

deadly missives were exhausted around
my friend a thousand times over without
reaching him ; but this was but to make his
loss more painful to me. The tumult of
war, and the enthusiasm which possesses
the soul at the sight of danger might have
prevented his sighs from piercing my heart,
while his death would have been useful to
his country, and damaging to the enemy.
Had he died thus, I should have mourned
him less. But to lose him amid the joys of
our winter-quarters ; to see him die at the
moment when he seemed full of health, and
when our intimacy was rendered closer by
rest and tranquillity, — ah, this was a blow
from which I can never recover !

But his memory lives in my heart, and
there alone. He is forgotten by those who
surrounded him, and who have replaced
him. And this makes his loss the more
sad to me.

Nature, in like manner indifferent to the

A Friend.

6i

fate of individuals, dons her green spring
robe, and decks herself in all her beauty
near the cemetery where he rests. The
trees cover themselves with foliage, and in-
tertwine their branches ; the birds warble
under the leafy sprays ; the insects hum
among the blossoms : everything breathes
joy in this abode of death.

And in the evening, when the moon
shines in the sky, and I am meditating in
this sad place, I hear the grasshopper, hid-
den in the grass that covers the silent
grave of my friend, merrily pursuing his
unwearied song. The unobserved de-
struction of human beings, as well as all
their misfortunes, are counted for nothing
in the grand total of events.

The death of an affectionate man who
breathes his last surrounded by his afflicted
friends, and that of a butterfly killed in a
flower's cup by the chill air of morning, are
but two similar epochs in the course of na-

62 A jfourney Round my Room.

ture. Man is but a phantom, a shadow, a
mere vapor that melts into the air.

But day-break begins to whiten the sky.
The gloomy thoughts that troubled me van-
ish with the darkness, and hope awakens
again in my heart. No ! He who thus
suffuses the east with light, has not made
it to shine upon my eyes only to plunge
me into the night of annihilation. He who
has spread out that vast horizon, who raised
those lofty mountains whose icy tops the
sun is even now gilding, is also He who
made my heart to beat, and my mind to
think.

No ! My friend is not annihilated.
Whatever may be the barrier that sepa-
rates us, I shall see him again. My hopes
are based on no mere syllogism. The
flight of an insect suffices to persuade me.
And often the prospect of the surrounding
country, the perfume of the air, and an in-

A Friend,

63

describable charm which is spread around
me, so raise my thoughts, that an invinci-
ble proof of immortahty forces itself upon
my soul, and fills it to the full.

XXII.

Jenny.

HE chapter I have just written had

often presented itself to my pen, but
I had as often rejected it. I had prom-
ised myself that I would only allow the
cheerful phase of my soul to show itself in
this book. But this project, like many
others, I was forced to abandon. I hope
the sensitive reader will pardon me for
having asked his tears ; and if any one
thinks I should have omitted this chapter,
he can tear it from his copy, or even throw
the whole book on the fire.

Enough for me, dear Jenny, that thy
heart approves it, thou best and best-
beloved of women, best and best-beloved of
sisters. To thee I dedicate my work. If

A Friend. 65

it please thee, it will please all gentle and
delicate hearts. And if thou wilt pardon
the follies into which, albeit against my
will, I sometimes fall, I will brave all the
critics of the universe.
5

XXIII.

The Picture Gallery.
NE word only upon our next engrav-

It represents the family of the unfortu-
nate Ugolino, dying of hunger. Around
him are his sons. One of them lies motion-
less at his feet. The rest stretch their en-
feebled arms towards him, asking for
bread ; while the wretched father, leaning
against a pillar of his prison, his eyes fixed
and haggard, his countenance immovable,
dies a double death, and suffers all that
human nature can endure.

And there is the brave Chevalier d'Assas,
dying, by an effort of courage and heroism
unknown in our days, under a hundred
bayonets.

mg.

The Pic heir Galleiy. 67

And thou who weepest under the pahn-
trees, poor negro woman ! thou, whom
some barbarous fellow has betrayed and
deserted, nay, worse, whom he has had the
brutality to sell as a vile slave, notwith-
standing thy love and devotion, notwith-
standing the pledge of affection thou hast
borne at thy breast, — I will not pass be-
fore thine image without rendering to thee
the homage due to thy tenderness and thy
sorrows.

Let us pause a moment before the other
picture. It is a young shepherdess tend-
ing her flock alone on the heights of the
Alps. She sits on an old willow trunk,
bleached by many winters. Her feet are
covered by the broad leaves of a tuft of
cacaliuy whose lilac blossoms bloom above
her head. Lavender, wild thyme, the
anemone, centaury, and flowers which are
cultivated with care in our hot-houses and
gardens, and which grow in all their native

68 A yourney Round my Room.

beauty on the Alps, form the gay carpet on
which her sheep wander.

Lovely shepherdess ! tell me where is
the lovely spot thou callest thy home.
From what far-off sheepfold didst thou set
out at daybreak this morning ? Could I
not go thither and live with thee ?

But alas, the sweet tranquillity thou en-
joyest will soon vanish ! The demon of
war, not content with desolating cities, will
ere long carry anxiety and alarm to thy
solitary retreat. Even now I see the sol-
diers advancing : they climb height after
height, as they march upward towards the
clouds. The cannons' roar is heard high
above the thunder-clap.

Fly, O shepherdess ! Urge on thy flock !
Hide thee in the farthest caves, for no
longer is repose to be found on this sad
earth !

XXIV.

Painting and Music,

T DO not know how it is, but of late my
^ chapters have always ended in a mourn-
ful strain. In vain do I begin by fixing my
eyes on some agreeable object ; in vain do I
embark when all is calm : a sudden gale soon
drifts me away. To put an end to an agita-
tion which deprives me of the mastery of
my ideas, and to quiet the beating of a heart
too much disturbed by so many touching
images, I see no remedy but a dissertation.
Yes, thus will I steel my heart.

And the dissertation shall be about
painting, for I cannot at this moment ex-
patiate upon any other subject. I cannot
altogether descend from the point I just

70 A Jotirney Round my Room.

now reached. Besides, painting is to me
what Uncle Toby's hobby-horse was to
him.^

I would say a few words, by the way,
upon the question of preeminence between
the charming arts of painting and music. I
would cast my grain into the balance, were
it but a grain of sand, a mere atom.

It is urged in favor of the painter, that
he leaves his works behind him ; that his
pictures outlive him, and immortalize his
memory.

In reply to this we are reminded that
musical composers also leave us their op-
eras and oratorios.

But music is subject to fashion, and
painting is not. The musical passages
that deeply affected our forefathers seem

1 The reader will probably have been reminded of the
" Sentimental Journey " before reaching this proof of
our author^s acquaintance with the writings of Sterne.

H. A.

Painting and Music. 71

simply ridiculous to the amateurs of
our own day ; and they are placed in ab-
surd farces to furnish laughter for the
nephews of those whom they once made to
weep.

Raphael's pictures will enchant our de-
scendants as greatly as they did our fore-
fathers.

This is my grain of sand.

XXV.

An Objection,

13 UT what/* said Madame de Haut-
^ castel to me one day, — " what if the
music of Cherubini or Cimarosa differs
from that of their predecessors ? What
care I if the music of the past make me
laugh, so long as that of the present day
touch me by its charms ? Is it at all
essential to my happiness that my pleas-
ures should resemble those of my great-
grandmother ? Why talk to me of paint-
ing, an art which is only enjoyed by a very
small class of persons, while music enchants
every living creature ? "

I hardly know at this moment how one
could reply to this observation, which I did
not foresee when I began my chapter.

An Objection. 73

Had I foreseen it, perhaps I should not
have undertaken that dissertation. And
pray do not imagine that you discover in
this objection the artifice of a musician, for
upon my honor I am none, Heaven be my
witness, and all those who have heard me
play the violin !

But, even supposing the merits of the
two arts to be equal, we must not be too
hasty in concluding that the merits of the
disciples of Painting and Music are there-
fore balanced. We see children play the
harpsichord as if they were maestri, but no
one has ever been a good painter at twelve
years old. Painting, besides taste and feel-
ing, requires an amount of thoughtfulness
that musicians can dispense with. Any
day may you hear men who are well nigh
destitute of head and heart, bring out from
a violin or harp the most ravishing sounds.

The human animal may be taught to
play the harpsichord, and when it has

74 ^ yourney Round my Room.

learned of a good master, the soul can
travel at her ease while sounds with which
she does not concern herself are mechan-
ically produced by the fingers. But the
simplest thing in the world cannot be
painted without the aid of all the faculties
of the soul.

If, however, any one should take it into
his head to ply me with a distinction be-
tween the composition and the perform-
ance of music, I confess that he would
give me some little difficulty. Ah, well !
were all writers of essays quite candid they
would all conclude as I am doing. When
one enters upon the examination of a ques-
tion, a dogmatic tone is generally assumed,
because there has been a secret decision
beforehand, just as I, notwithstanding my
hypocritical impartiality, had decided in
favor of painting. But discussion awakens
objections, and everything ends with doubt.

XXVL

Raphael,

"XT OW that I am more tranquil, I will
^ ^ endeavor to speak calmly of the two
portraits that follow the picture of the shep-
herdess of the Alps.

Raphael ! Who but thyself could paint
thy portrait ; who but thyself would have
dared attempt it ? Thy open countenance,
beaming with feeling and intellect, pro-
claims thy character and thy genius.

To gratify thy shade, I have placed be-
side thee the portrait of thy mistress, whom
the men of all generations will hold answer-
able for the loss of the sublime works of
which art has been deprived by thy prema-
ture death.

When I examine the portrait of Raphael,

76 A yourney Round my Room.

I feel myself penetrated by an almost re-
ligious respect for that great man, who, in
the flower of his age, excelled the ancients,
and whose pictures are at once the admira-
tion and the despair of modern artists. My
soul, in admiring it, is moved with indigna-
tion against that Italian who preferred her
love to her lover, and who extinguished at
her bosom that heavenly flame, that divine
genius.

Unhappy one! Knewest thou not that
Raphael had announced a picture supe-
rior even to that of the Transfiguration ?
Didst thou not know that thine arms encir-
cled the favorite of nature, the father of
enthusiasm, a sublime genius. ... a
divinity ?

While my soul makes these observations,
her companion, whose eyes are attentively
fixed upon the lovely face of that fatal
beauty, feels quite ready to forgive her the
death of Raphael.

Raphael, 77

In vain my soul upbraids this extrava-
gant weakness ; she is not Hstened to at
all. On such occasions a strange dialogue
arises between the two, which terminates
too often in favor of the bad principles, and
of which I reserve a sample for another
chapter.

And if, by the way, my soul had not at
that moment abruptly closed the inspec-
tion of the gallery, if she had given the
OTHER time to contemplate the rounded
and graceful features of the beautiful Ro-
man lady, my intellect would have miser-
ably lost its supremacy.

And if, at that critical moment I had
suddenly obtained the favor bestowed upon
the fortunate Pygmalion, without having
the least spark of the genius which makes
me pardon Raphael his errors, it is just
possible that I should have succumbed as
he did.

XXVII.

A Perfect Picture.

IV yTY engravings, and the paintings of
^ which I have spoken, fade away into
nothing at the first glance bestowed upon
the next picture. The immortal works of
Raphael and Correggio, and of the whole
Italian school, are not to be compared to it.
Hence it is that when I accord to an ama-
teur the pleasure of travelling with me, I
always keep this until the last as a special
luxury, and ever since I first exhibited this
sublime picture to connoisseurs and to ig-
norant, to men of the world, to artists, to
women, to children, to animals even, I
have always found the spectators, whoever
they might be, show, each in his own way,
signs of pleasure and surprise, so admirably
is nature rendered therein.

A Perfect Picture. 79

And what picture could be presented
to you, gentlemen ; what spectacle, ladies,
could be placed before your eyes more
certain of gaining your approval than the
faithful portraiture of yourselves ? The
picture of which I speak is a mirror, and
no one has as yet ventured to criticise it.
It is to all who look on it a perfect picture,
in depreciation of which not a word can be
said.

You will at once admit that it should be
regarded as one of the wonders of the
world.

I will pass over in silence the pleasure
felt by the natural philosopher in meditat-
ing upon the strange phenomena presented
by light as it reproduces upon that polished
surface all the objects of nature. A mirror
offers to the sedentary traveller a thousand
interesting reflections, a thousand observa-
tions which render it at once a useful and
precious article.

8o A jfourney Round my Room.

Ye whom Love has held or still holds
under his sway, learn that it is before a
mirror that he sharpens his darts, and con-
templates his cruelties. There it is that he
plans his manoeuvres, studies his tactics,
and prepares himself for the war he wishes
to declare. There he practices his killing
glances and little affectations, and sly pout-
ings, just as a player practices, with himself
for spectator, before appearing in public.

A mirror, being always impartial and
true, brings before the eyes of the beholder
the roses of youth and the wrinkles of age,
without calumny and without flattery. It
alone among the councilors of the great,
invariably tells them the truth.

It was this recommendation that made
me desire the invention of a moral mirror,
in which all men might see themselves,
with their virtues and their vices. I even
thought of offering a prize to some acad-
emy for this discovery, when riper reflec-

Raphael. 8 1

tion proved to me that such an invention
would be useless.

Alas ! how rare it is for ugliness to rec-
ognize itself and break the mirror! In
vain are looking-glasses multiplied around
us which reflect light and truth with geo-
metrical exactness. As soon as the rays
reach our vision and paint us as we are,
self-love slips its deceitful prism between
us and our image, and presents a divinity
to us.

And of all the prisms that have existed
since the first that came from the hands of
the immortal Newton, none has possessed
so powerful a refractive force, or produced
such pleasing and lively colors, as the
prism of self-love.

Now, seeing that ordinary looking-
glasses record the truth in vain, and that
they cannot make men see their own im-
perfections, every one being satisfied with
his face, what would a moral mirror avail }
6

82 A Journey Round my Room.

Few people would look at it, and no one
would recognize himself. None save phi-
losophers would spend their time in exam-
ining themselves, — I even have my doubts
about the philosophers.

Taking the mirror as we find it, I hope
no one will blame me for ranking it above
all the pictures of the Italian school.

Ladies, whose taste cannot be faulty,
and whose opinion should decide the ques-
tion, generally upon entering a room let
their first glance fall upon this picture.

A thousand times have I seen ladies,
aye, and gallants, too, forget at a ball their
lovers and their mistresses, the dancing,
and all the pleasures of the fete, to contem-
plate with evident complaisance this en-
chanting picture, and honoring it even,
from time to time, in the midst of the live-
liest quadrille, with a look.

Who then can dispute the rank that I
accord to it among the masterpieces of the
art of Apelles ?

XXVIII.

The Upset Carriage.

T HAD at last nearly reached my bureau.

So close was I, that had I stretched out
my arm I could have touched the corner
nearest to me. But at this very moment I
was on the verge of seeing the fruit of all
my labors destroyed, and of losing my life.
I should pass over in silence the accident
that happened to me, for fear of discourag-
ing other travellers, were it not that it is so
difficult to upset such a post-chaise as I
employ, that it must be allowed that one
must be uncommonly unlucky — as un-
lucky, indeed, as it is my lot to be — to be
exposed to a like danger.

There I was, stretched at full length
upon the ground, completely upset, and it

84 A Journey Round my Room.

was done so quickly, so unexpectedly, that
I should have been almost tempted to
question the cause of my abject position,
had not a singing in my ears and a sharp
pain in my left shoulder too plainly demon-
strated it.

This was again the other, who had
played a trick upon me.

Startled by the voice of a poor man who
suddenly asked alms at my door, and by
the voice of Rose, my other half suddenly
turned the arm-chair sharply round, before
my soul had time to warn it that a piece of
brick, which served as a drag, was gone.
The jerk was so violent that my post-
chaise was quite thrown from its centre of
gravity, and turned over upon me.

This was, I must own, one of the occa-
sions upon which I had most to complain
of my soul. For instead of being vexed
at herself for having been absent, and
scolding her companion for its hurry, she

The Upset Carriage. 85

so far forgot herself as to give way to the
most animal resentment, and to insult the
poor fellow cruelly.

" Idle rascal," she said, " go and work."
(An execrable apostrophe this, the inven-
tion of miserly, heartless Mammon.)

Sir," replied the man, hoping to soften
my heart, " I come from Chamb6ry."

" So much the worse for you."

" I am James. You saw me when you
were in the country. I used to drive the
sheep into the fields."

" And what do you do here } " My soul
began to regret the harshness of my first
words ; I almost think she regretted them
a moment before they were uttered. In
like manner, when one meets in the road a
rut or puddle, one sees it, but has not time
to avoid it.

Rose finished the work of bringing me
to good sense and repentance. She had
recognized Jem, who had often shared his

86 A yourney Round my Room.

crust with her, and she testified by her
caresses, her remembrance and gratitude.

Meanwhile, Joannetti, who had gathered
together what was left of my dinner, his
own share, gave it at once to Jem.

Poor Joannetti !

Thus it is that in my journey I get les-
sons of philosophy and humanity from my
servant and my dog.

XXIX.

Misfortune.

T) EFORE proceeding farther, I wish to
^ remove a suspicion which may have
crossed the minds of my readers.

I would not for all the world be sus-
pected of having undertaken this journey
just because I did not know how to spend
my time, and was in a manner compelled
thereto by circumstances. I here affirm,
and swear by all that is dear to me, that I
projected it long before the event took
place which deprived me of my liberty for
forty-two days. This forced retirement
only served as an opportunity for setting
out sooner than I had intended.

This gratuitous protestation will, I know,
appear suspicious in the eyes of some.

88 A yourney Round my Room.

But those who are so ready to suspect are
just the persons who will not read this
book. They have enough to do at home
and at their friends', plenty of other busi-
ness to attend to. And good, honest folk
will believe me.

Still, I freely admit that I should have
preferred another season for my journey,
and that I should have chosen for its exe-
cution Lent rather than the Carnival. The
philosophical reflections, however, that
have come to me from above have greatly
aided me in supporting the loss of those
pleasures which Turin offers at this noisy
and exciting time.

It is certain, I have thought to myself,
that the walls of my chamber are not so
magnificently decorated as those of a ball-
room. The silence of my cottage is far
less agreeable than the pleasing sounds of
music and dancing. But among the bril-
liant personages one meets in those fes-

Misfortune. 89

tive scenes, there are certainly some who
are more sick at heart than I am.

And why should I picture to myself
those who are more happily circumstanced
than it is my lot to be, while the world
swarms with those who are worse off ? In-
stead of transporting myself in fancy to that
sumptuous dancing-hall, where so many
beauties are eclipsed by the young Eugenie,
I need only pause a moment in one of the
streets, that lead thither, if I would learn
how happy is my fate.

For, under the porticos of those magnifi-
cent apartments, lie a crowd of wretched
people, half-naked, and ready to die from
cold and misery. What a spectacle is
here ! Would that this page of my book
were known throughout the universe !
Would that every one knew that in this
opulent city a host of wretched beings
sleep, without covering, in the coldest win-
ter nights, and with no pillow but the

90 A Journey Round my Room.

corner-stone of a street, or the steps of a
palace.

Here, again, is a group of children,
crouching together for protection from the
deadly cold ; and here a trembling woman,
who has no voice left to complain with.
The passers-by come and go without being
touched by a spectacle with which they are
so familiar. The noise of carriages, the
shouts of intemperance, the ravishing
sounds of music, mingle not unfrequently
with the wails of those unhappy creatures,
and fill the ear with doleful discord.

XXX.

Charity.

T T TERE any one to pass a hasty judg-
^ ^ ment upon a city, taking my last
chapter as a criterion, he would err greatly.
I have spoken of the poor we meet with, of
their pitiful lamentations, and of the in-
difference with which many regard them.
But I have said nothing of the multitude
of charitable persons who sleep while others
seek amusement, and who rise at dawn,
unobserved and unostentatiously, to succor
the unfortunate.

This aspect of city life must not be
passed by in silence. I will write it on the
reverse of the page I was anxious every-
body should read.

After having divided their good things

92 A yourney Round my Room.

with their brethren, after having poured
balm into hearts chafed by sorrow, you
may see them enter the churches, while
wearied vice sleeps upon eider-down, to
offer up their prayers to God, and to thank
Him for his mercies. The light of a soli-
tary lamp still struggles in the sanctuary
with the daylight ; but they are al-
ready prostrate before the altar. And the
Almighty, angered by the hard-hearted
selfishness of men, witholds his threat-
ening hand.

XXXI.

Inventory.

T COULD not help saying a word in
my journey about those poor creatures,
for the thought of them has often come
across me on my way, and turned the cur-
rent of my reflections. Sometimes, struck
with the difference between their case and
my own, I have suddenly stopped my
travelling-carriage, and thought my cham-
ber extravagantly embellished ! What su-
perfluous luxury ! Six chairs, two tables, a
bureau, and a looking-glass ! What vain
display ! My bed above all things, my
rose and white bed, with its two mattresses,
seemed to rival the magnificence and
effeminacy of Asiatic monarchs.

These meditations made me indifferent

94 ^ Journey Round my Room.

to the pleasures that had been forbidden
me. And, as I went on from one reflection
to another, my fit of philosophy became so
serious that I could have seen a ball going
on in the next room, and heard the sound
of violins and flutes without stirring. I
could have heard Marchesini's melodious
voice, that voice which has so often
transported me, yes, I could have listened
to it without being moved. Nay, more, I
could have gazed upon the most beauteous
woman in Turin, upon Eugenie herself,
adorned from head to foot by the hands of
Mademoiselle Rapoux,^ without emotion.
But, of this last, I must confess myself not
quite sure.

1 A fashionable milliner of the time.

XXXII.

Misanthropy.

T)UT, gentlemen, allow me to ask a
^ question. Do you enjoy balls and
plays as much as you used to do ? As
for me, I avow that for some time past
crowded assemblies have inspired me with
a kind of terror. When in their midst, I
am assailed by an ominous dream. In
vain I try to shake it off ; like the dream
of Atkaliey it constantly returns. Perhaps
this is because the soul, overwhelmed at
the present moment by dark fancies and
painful pictures, sees nothing but sadness
around it, just as a disordered stomach
turns the most wholesome food into poi-
son. However this maybe, my dream is as
follows. When I am at one of these fetes,

g6 A Journey Round my Room.

among a crowd of kind, good-natured men,
who dance and sing, who weep at trage-
dies, and are full of frankness and cordial-
ity, I say to myself : —

" If suddenly a white bear, a philoso-
pher, a tiger, or some other animal of this
kind were to enter, and ascending to the
orchestra, were to shout out furiously :
'Wretched beings! Listen to the truth
that comes from my lips ! You are op-
pressed ! You are the slaves of tyrants !
You are wretched and heart-sick ! Awake
from your lethargy !

" ' Musicians, break your instruments
about your heads, and let each one of you
arm himself with a poniard. Think no
more about holidays and rejoicings.
Climb into the boxes, and stab their oc-
cupants, one and all. And let the women
steep their timid hands in blood.

" ' Quit this room, for you are free !
Tear your king from his throne, and your
God from his sanctuary.*

Misanthropy. 97

" Well, and how many of these charm-
ing men will obey this tiger's voice. How
many of them thought, perhaps, of such
deeds before they entered ? Who can
tell ? Was there no dancing in Paris five
years ago ? "

Joannetti ! shut the door and windows !
I do not wish to see the light ! Let no
one enter my room. Put my sword within
reach. Go out yourself, and keep away
from me.

7

XXXIII.

Consolation.

"NT O, no ! Stay, Joannetti, my good
^ ^ fellow ! And you too, Rose, you
who guess what are my sorrows, and
soften them by your caresses, come !
V forms the resting-place.

XXXIV.

Correspondence,

'THHE upset of my post-chaise has
rendered the reader the service of
shortening my journey by a good dozen
chapters, for, upon getting up, I found my-
self close to my bureau, and saw that I had
no time left for any observations upon a
number of engravings and pictures which
had yet to be surveyed, and which might
have lengthened my excursions into the
realm of painting.

Leaving to the right the portraits of
Raphael and his mistress, the Chevalier
d'Assas and the Shepherdess of the Alps,
and taking the left, the side on which the
window is situated, my bureau comes into
view. It is the first and the most promi-

lOO A yourney Round my Room.

nent object the traveller's eyes light upon,
taking the route I have indicated.

It is surmounted by a few shelves that
serve as a book-case, and the whole is ter-
minated by a bust which completes the
pyramid, and contributes more than any
other object to the adornment of this re-
gion.

Upon opening the first drawer to the
left, we find an inkstand, paper of all
kinds, pens ready mended, and sealing-wax ;
all which set the most indolent person
longing to write.

I am sure, dear Jenny, that if you
chanced to open this drawer, you would
reply to the letter I wrote you a year ago.

In the opposite drawer lies a confused
heap of materials for a touching history of
the prisoner of Pignerol,^ which, my dear
friends, you will ere long read.

Between these two drawers is a recess

1 This work was not published.

Correspondence. loi

into which I throw whatever letters I
receive. All that have reached me during
the last ten years are there. The oldest of
them are arranged according to date in
several packets ; the new ones lie pell-mell.
Besides these, I have several dating from
my early boyhood.

How great a pleasure it is to behold
again through the medium of these letters
the interesting scenes of our early years, to
be once again transported into those happy
days that we shall see no more !

How full is my heart, and how deeply
tinged with sadness is its joy, as my eyes
wander over those words traced by one
who is gone forever ! That handwriting is
his, and it was his heart that guided his
hand. It was to me that he addressed this
letter, and this letter is all that is left of
him !

When I put my hand into this recess, I
seldom leave the spot for the whole day.

I02 A Journey Round my Room.

In like manner, a traveller will pass rapidly
through whole provinces of Italy, making
a few hurried and trivial observations on
the way, and upon reaching Rome will
take up his abode there for months.

This is the richest vein in the mine I
am exploring. How changed I find my
ideas and sentiments, and how altered do
my friends appear when I examine them
as they were in days gone by, and as they
are now ! In these mirrors of the past I
see them in mortal agitation about plans
which no longer disturb them.

Here I find an event announced which we
evidently looked upon as a great misfortune ;
but the end of the letter is wanting, and
the circumstance is so entirely forgotten
that I cannot now make out what the mat-
ter was which so concerned us. We were
possessed by a thousand prejudices. We
knew nothing of the world, and of men.
But then, how warm was our intercourse !

Correspondence. 103

How intimate our friendship ! How un-
bounded our confidence !

In our ignorance there was bliss. But
now, — ah ! all is now changed. We have
been compelled, as others, to read the
human heart ; and truth, falling like a
bomb into the midst of us, has forever de-
stroyed the enchanted palace of illusion.

XXXV.

The Withered Rose,

T F the subject were worth the trouble, I
^ could readily write a chapter upon that
dry rose. It is a flower of last year's car-
nival. I gathered it myself in the Valen-
tino.^ And in the evening, an hour before
the ball was to begin, I bore it, full of
hope, and agreeably excited, to Madame
Hautcastel, for her acceptance. She took
it, and without looking at it or me, placed
it upon her toilette-table. And how could
she have given me any of her attention ?
She was engaged in looking at herself.

1 The botanical garden of Turin.

The Withered Rose. 105

There she stood before a large mirror ; her
hair was ornamented for a fete, and the
decorations of her dress were undergoing
their final arrangement She was so fully
occupied, her attention was so totally ab-
sorbed by the ribbons, gauzes, and all sorts
of finery that lay in heaps before her, that
I did not get a look or any sign of recog-
nition. There was nothing for me but
resignation. I held out humbly in my
hand a number of pins arranged in order.
But her pincushion being more within
reach, she took them from her pincushion,
and when I brought my hand nearer, she
took them from my hand, quite indiffer-
ently, and in taking them up she would
feel about for them with the tips of her
fingers, without taking her eyes from the
glass, lest she should lose sight of herself.

For some time I held behind her a
second mirror that she might judge the
better how her dress became her, and as

io6 A Journey Round my Room.

her face reflected itself from one glass to
another, I saw a prospective of coquettes,
no one of whom paid me the least atten-
tion. In a word, I must confess that my
rose and I cut a very poor figure.

At last I lost all patience, and unable
longer to control the vexation that preyed
upon me, I put down the looking-glass I
had been holding, and went out angrily
without taking leave.

" O ! you are going } " she said, turning
so as to see her figure in profile. I made
no answer, but I listened some time at the
door to see what effect my abrupt depar-
ture would have.

" Do you not see," she said to her maid,
after a moment's silence, " that this caraco,
particularly the lower part, is much too
large at the waist, and will want pinning ? "

Why and wherefore that rose is upon
my shelf, I shall certainly not explain, for,
as I said before, a withered rose does not
deserve a chapter.

The Withered Rose. 107

And pray observe, ladies, that I make no
reflection upon the adventure with the
rose. I do not say whether Madame de
Hautcastel did well or otherwise in prefer-
ring her dress to me, or whether I had any
right to a better reception.

I take special care to deduce therefrom
no general conclusions about the reality,
the strength, and the duration of the affec-
tion of ladies for their friends. I am con-
tent to cast this chapter (since it is one)
into the world with the rest of my journey,
without addressing it to any one, and with-
out recommending it to any one.

I will only add, gentlemen, a word of
counsel. Impress well upon your minds
this fact, that your mistress is no longer
yours on the day of a ball.

As soon as dressing begins, a lover is no
more thought of than a husband would be ;
and the ball takes the place of a lover.

Every one knows how little a husband

io8 A JoMrney Round my Room.

gains by enforcing his love. Take your
trouble, then, patiently, cheerfully.

And, my dear sir, do not deceive your-
self; if a lady welcome you at a ball, it is
not as a lover that you are received, for
you are a husband — but as a part of the
ball ; and you are therefore but a fraction
of her new conquest. You are the decimal
of a lover. Or, it may be, you dance well,
and so give eclat to her graces. After all,
perhaps, the most flattering way in which
you can regard her kind welcome is to
consider that she hopes by treating as her
cavalier a man of parts like yourself, to ex-
cite the jealousy of her companions. Were
it not for that she would not notice you at
all.

It amounts then to this. You must re-
sign yourself to your fate, and wait until
the husband's role is played. I know those
who would be glad to get off at so cheap a
rate.

XXXVI.

The Library.

T PROMISED to give a dialogue be-
tween my soul and the other. But
there are some chapters which elude me,
as it were, or rather, there are others which
flow from my pen nolens volens^ and de-
range my plans. Among these is one
about my library ; and I will make it as
short as I can. Our forty-two days will
soon be ended ; and even were it not so,
a similar period would not suffice to com-
plete the description of the rich country
in which I travel so pleasantly.

My library, then, is composed of novels,
if I must make the confession ; of novels
and a few choice poets.

As if I had not troubles enough of my

no A Journey Round my Room.

own, I share those of a thousand imaginary
personages, and I feel them as acutely as my
own. How many tears have I shed for
that poor Clarissa,^ and for Charlotte's ^
lover !

But if I go out of my way in search of
unreal afflictions, I find in return, such vir-
tue, kindness, and disinterestedness in this
imaginary world as I have never yet found
united in the real world around me. I
meet with a woman after my heart's desire,
free from whim, lightness, and affectation.
I say nothing about beauty ; this I can
leave to my imagination, and picture her
faultlessly beautiful. And then, closing
the book, which no longer keeps pace with
my ideas, I take the fair one by the hand,
and we travel together over a country a
thousand times more delightful than Eden
itself. What painter could represent the

1 Richardson's Clarissa Harlowe.

2 Goethe's Werther.

The Library. 1 1 \

fairy land in which I have placed the god-
dess of my heart ? What poet could ever
describe the lively and manifold sensations
I experience in those enchanted regions ?

How often have I cursed that Cleveland/
who is always embarking upon new troubles
which he might very well avoid ! I can-
not endure that book with its long list of
calamities. But if I open it by way of dis-
traction, I cannot help devouring it to the
end.

For how could I leave that poor man
among the Abaquis t What would become
of him in the hands of those savages ?
Still less dare I leave him in his attempt
to escape from captivity.

Indeed, I so enter into his sorrows, Fam
so interested in him and in his unfortunate
family, that the sudden appearance of the
ferocious Ruintons makes my hair stand
on end. When I read that passage a cold

1 Cleveland^ by the Abbe Prevost.

112 A yourney Round my Room.

perspiration covers me, and my fright is as
lively and real as if I was going to be
roasted and eaten by the monsters myself.

When I have had enough of tears and
love, I turn to some poet, and set out again
for a new world.

XXXVII.

Another World.

T^ROM the Argonautic expedition to
the Assembly of Notables ; from the
bottom of the nethermost pit to the fur-
thest fixed star beyond the Milky Way ;
to the confines of the Universe ; to the
gates of chaos ; thus far extends the vast
field over the length and breadth of which
I leisurely roam. I lack nor time nor
space. Thither, conducted by Homer, by
Milton, by Virgil, by Ossian, I transport
my existence.

All the events that have taken place be-
tween these two epochs ; all the countries,
all the worlds, all the beings that have ex-
isted between these two boundaries, — all
are mine, all as lawfully belong to me as the
8

114 A yourney Round my Room.

ships that entered the Piraeus belonged to
a certain Athenian.

Above all the rest do I love the poets
who carry me back to the remotest antiq-
uity. The death of the ambitious Aga-
memnon, the madness of Orestes, and the
tragical history of the heaven-persecuted
family of the Atrides, inspire me with a
terror that all the events of modern times
could not excite in my breast.

Behold the fatal urn which contains the
ashes of Orestes ! Who would not shud-
der at the sight } Electra, unhappy sister !
be comforted, for it is Orestes himself who
bears the urn, and the ashes are those of
his enemies.

No longer are their banks like those of
Xanthus or the Scamander. No longer do
we visit plains such as those of Hesperia
or Arcadia. Where are now the isles of
Lemnos and Crete t Where the famous
labyrinth } Where is the rock that forlorn

Another World. 115

Ariadne washed with her tears ? Theseus
is seen no more ; Hercules is gone forever.
The men, aye, and the heroes of our day-
are but pigmies.

When I would visit a scene full of enthu-
siasm, and put forth all the strength of my
imagination, I cling boldly to the flowing
robe of the sublime blind poet of Albion at
the moment when he soars heavenward,
and dares approach the throne of the Eter-
nal. What muse was able to sustain him
in a flight so lofty that no man before him
ever ventured to raise his eyes so high ?
From heaven's dazzling pavement which
avaricious Mammon looked down upon
with envious eyes, I pass, horror-stricken,
to the vast caverns of Satan's sojourn. I
take my place at the infernal council, min-
gle with the host of rebelhous spirits, and
listen to their discourse.

But here I must confess a weakness for
which I have often reproached myself.

ii6 A Journey Round my Room.

I cannot help taking a certain interest in
Satan, thus hurled headlong from heaven.
(I am speaking, of course, of Milton s
Satan.) While I blame the obstinacy of
the rebel angel, the firmness he shows in
the midst of his exceeding great misery,
and the grandness of his courage, inspire
me, against my will, with admiration. Al-
though not ignorant of the woe resulting
from the direful enterprise that led him to
force the gate of hell and to trouble the
home of our first parents, I cannot for a
moment, do what I will, wish he may per-
ish in the confusion of chaos on his way.
I even think I could willingly help him, did
not shame withhold me. I follow his every
movement, and take as much pleasure in
travelling with him as if I were in very
good company. In vain I consider that
after all he is a devil on his way to the ruin
of the human race, that he is a thorough
democrat not after the manner of those of

Another World. 117

Athens, but of Paris. All this does not
cure me of my prejudice in his favor.

How vast was his project ! How great
the boldness displayed in its execution !

When the thrice-threefold gates of hell
fly open before him, and the dark, bound-
less ocean discloses itself in all its horror
at his feet, with undaunted eye he surveys
the realm of chaos, and then, opening his
sail-broad wings, precipitates himself into
the abyss.^

To me this passage is one of the noblest
efforts of imagination, and one of the most
splendid journeys ever made, next to the
journey round my room.

1 Some freedom of translation is, perhaps, pardonable
here. Our author, depending, it would seem, upon his
memory, gives Satan wings large enough " to cover a
whole army " It was " the extended wings " of the gates
of hell, not of Satan, that Milton describes as wide
enough to admit a " bannered host." Paradise Losty ii.
885. H. A.

XXXVIIL
The Bust.

T SHOULD never end if I tried to de-
scribe a thousandth part of the strange
events I meet with when I travel in my li-
brary. The voyages of Cook and the obser-
vations of his fellow-travellers Banks and
Solander are nothing compared with my
adventures in this one district. Indeed, I
think I could spend my life there in a kind
of rapture, were it not for the bust I have
already mentioned, upon which my eyes
and thoughts always fix themselves at last,
whatever may be the position of my soul.
And when my soul is violently agitated, or
a prey to despair, a glance at this bust suf-
fices to restore the troubled being to its
natural state. It sounds the chord upon

The Bust. 119

which I keep in tune the harmonies, and
correct the discords of the sensations and
perceptions of which my being is made up.
How striking the Hkeness ! Those are the
features nature gave to the best of men.
O, that the sculptor had been able to bring
to view his noble soul, his genius, his char-
acter ! But what am I attempting ! Is it
here that his praise should be recorded ?
Do I address myself to the men that sur-
round me ? Ah ! what concern is it of
theirs ?

I am contented to bend before thy im-
age, O best of fathers ! Alas, that this
should be all that is left me of thee and of
my father-land ! Thou quittedst the earth
when crime was about to invade it ; and
so heavy are the ills that oppress thy fam-
ily, that we are constrained to regard thy
loss as a blessing. Many would have been
the evils a longer life would have brought
upon thee ! And dost thou, O my father,

I20 A Journey Round my Room.

dost thou, in thine abode of bliss, know the
lot of thy family ! Knowest thou that thy
children are exiled from the country thou
hast served with so much zeal and integ-
rity for sixty years ?

Dost thou know that they are forbidden
to visit thy grave ? But tyranny has not
been able to deprive them of the most
precious part of thy heritage, the record of
thy virtues, and the force of thine example.
In the midst of the torrent of crime which
has borne their father-land and their patri-
mony to ruin, they have steadfastly re-
mained united in the path marked out
for them by thee. And when it shall
be given them to prostrate themselves
once more beside thy tomb, thou shalt see
in them thine obedient children.

XXXIX.

A Dialogue.

T PROMISED a dialogue, and I will
keep my word.
It was daybreak. The rays of the sun
were gilding the summit of Mount Viso,
and the tops of the highest hills on the
island beneath our feet. My soul was al-
ready awake. This early awakening may
have been the effect of those night visions
which often excite in her a fatiguing and
useless agitation : or perhaps the carnival,
then drawing to a close, was the secret
cause ; for this season of pleasure and folly
influences the human organization much as
do the phases of the moon and the conjunc-
tion of certain planets. However this may
be, my soul was awake, and wide awake,
when she shook off the bands of sleep.

122 A Journey Round my Room.

For some time she had shared, though
confusedly, the sensations of the other :
but she was still encumbered by the
swathes of night and sleep ; and these
swathes seemed to her transformed into
gauze and fine linen and Indian lawn. My
poor soul was, as it were, enwrapped in all
this paraphernalia, and the god of sleep,
that he might hold her still more firmly
under his sway, added to these bonds
disheveled tresses of flaxen hair, ribbon
bows, and pearl necklaces. Really it was
pitiful to see her struggle in these toils.

The agitation of the nobler part of my-
self communicated itself to the other ;
and the latter, in its turn, reacted power-
fully upon my soul.

I worked myself, at last, into a state
which it would be hard to describe, while
my soul, either sagaciously or by chance,
hit upon a way of escaping from the gauzes
by which it was being suffocated. I know

A Dialogue. 123

not whether she discovered an outlet, or
vvhether, which is a more natural conclu-
sion, it occurred to her to raise them : at all
events, she found a means of egress from
the labyrinth. The tresses of disheveled
hair were still there ; but they were now
rather help than hindrance ; my soul seized
them, as a drowning man clutches the
sedge on a river's bank, but the pearl neck-
lace broke in the act, and the unstrung
pearls rolled on the sofa, and from the sofa
to Madame Hautcastel's floor (for my soul,
by an eccentricity for which it would be
difficult to give a reason, fancied she was
at that lady's house) ; then a great bunch
of violets fell to the ground, and my soul,
which then awoke, returned home, bring-
ing with her common sense and reality.
She strongly disapproved, as you will read-
ily imagine, of all that had passed in her
absence ; and here it is that the dialogue
begins which forms the subject of this
chapter.

124 ^ Journey Round my Room,

Never had my soul been so ungraciously
received. The complaints she thought fit
to make at this critical moment fully
sufficed to stir up domestic strife ; a revolt,
a formal insurrection followed.

" What ! " said my soul, is it thus that
during my absence, instead of restoring
your strength by quiet sleep that you may
be better able to do my bidding, you have
the insolence (the expressing was rather
strong) to give yourself up to transports
which my authority has not sanctioned ! "

Little accustomed to this haughty tone,
the OTHER angrily answered : —

" Really, madame " (this madame was
meant to remove from the discussion any-
thing like familiarity), "really, this affec-
tation of virtuous decorum is highly be-
coming to you ! Is it not to the sallies
of your imagination, and to your extrava-
gant ideas, that I owe what in me dis-
pleases you ? What right have you to go

A Dialogue. 125

on those pleasant excursions so often,
without taking me with you ? Have I
ever complained about your attending the
meetings in the Empyrean or in the
Elysian fields, your conversations with the
celestial intelligences, your profound spec-
ulations (a little raillery here, you see),
your castles in the air, and your transcen-
dental systems ? And have I not a right,
when you leave me in this way, to enjoy
the blessings bestowed upon me by Nature,
and the pleasures she places before me ? "

My soul, surprised at so much vivacity
and eloquence, did not know how to reply.
In order to settle the dispute amicably, she
endeavored to veil with the semblance of
good-nature the reproaches that had es-
caped her. But, that she might not seem
to take the first steps towards recon-
ciliation, she affected a formal tone.

Madamel' she said, with assumed cor-
diality If the reader thought

126 A Journey Round my Room.

the word misplaced when addressed to my
soul, what will he say of it now, if he call to
mind the cause of the quarrel ? But my soul
did not feel the extreme absurdity of this
mode of expression, so much does passion
obscure the intellect ! " Madame," she said,
" nothing, be assured, would give me so
much pleasure as to see you enjoy those
pleasures of which your nature is suscepti-
ble, if even I did not participate in them,
were it not that such pleasures are harmful
to you, injuriously affecting the harmony
which . . y Here my soul was rudely
interrupted, " No, no, I am not the dupe of
your pretended kindness. The sojourn we
are compelled to make together in this room
in which we travel ; the wound which I re-
ceived, which still bleeds, and which nearly
destroyed me, — is not all this the fruit of
your overweening conceit and your barbar-
ous prejudices ? My comfort, my very ex-
istence, is counted as nothing when your

A Dialogue. 127

passions sway you : and then, forsooth, you
pretend that you take an interest in my
welfare, and that your insults spring from
friendship."

My soul saw very well that the part she
was playing on this occasion was no flatter-
ing one. She began, too, to perceive that the
warmth of the dispute had put the cause of
it out of sight. Profiting from this circum-
stance, she caused a further distraction by
saying to Joannetti, who at that moment
entered the room, " Make some coflee ! "
The noise of the cups attracted all the
rebers attention, who forthwith forgot
everything else. In like manner we show
children a toy to make them forget the un-
wholesome fruit for which they beg and
stamp.

While the water was being heated, I in-
sensibly fell asleep. I enjoyed that de-
lightful sensation about which I have
already entertained my readers, and which

128 A yourney Round my Room.

you experience when you feel yourself to
be dozing. The agreeable rattling Joan-
netti made with the coffee-pot reechoed in
my brain, and set all my sensitive nerves
vibrating, just as a single harp-string when
struck will make the octaves resound.

At last I saw as it were, a shadow pass
before me. I opened my eyes, and there
stood Joannetti. Ah, what an aroma!
How agreeable a surprise ! Coffee ! Cream !
A pyramid of dry toast ! Good reader,
come, breakfast with me !

XL.

Imagination,

\ "\ 7HAT a wealth of delights has kind
^ ^ Nature given to those who can
enjoy them. Who can count the innumer-
able phases they assume in different in-
dividuals, and at different periods of life !
The confused remembrance of the pleas-
ures of my boyhood sends a thrill through
my heart. Shall I attempt to paint the
joys of the youth whose soul glows with all
the warmth of love, at an age when inter-
est, ambition, hatred, and all the base pas-
sions that degrade and torment humanity
are unknown to him, even by name ?

During this age, too short, alas ! the sun
shines with a brightness it never displays
in after-life ; the air is then purer, the
9

130-^4 yourney Round my Room.

streams clearer and fresher, and nature has
aspects, and the woods have paths, which
in our riper age we never find again. O,
what perfumes those flowers breathe !
How deUcious are those fruits ! With
what colors is the morning sky adorned !
Men are all good, generous, kind-hearted ;
and women all lovely and faithful. On all
sides we meet with cordiality, frankness,
and unselfishness. Nature presents to us
nothing but flowers, virtues, and pleasures.

The excitement of love, and the antici-
pation of happiness, do they not fill our
hearts to the brim with emotions no less
lively and various }

The sight of nature and its contempla-
tion, whether we regard it as a whole, or
examine its details, opens to our reason an
immense field of enjoyments. Soon the
imagination, brooding over this sea of
pleasures, increases their number and in-
tensity. The various sensations so unite

Imagination. 131

and blend as to form new ones. Dreams
of glory mingle with the palpitations of
love. Benevolence moves hand in hand
with self-esteem. Melancholy, from time
to time, throws over us her solemn livery,
and changes our tears to joy. Thus the
perceptions of the mind, the feelings of the
heart, the very remembrance of sensations,
are inexhaustible sources of pleasure and
comfort to man. No wonder, then, that
the noise Joannetti made with the coffee-
pot, and the unexpected appearance of a
cup of cream, should have impressed me
so vividly and so agreeably.

XLL

The Travelling-coat.

T PUT on my travelling-coat, after hav-
ing examined it with a complacent
eye ; and forthwith resolved to write a
chapter ad hocy that I might make it known
to the reader.

The form and usefulness of these gar-
ments being pretty generally known, I will
treat specially of their influence upon the
minds of travellers.

My winter travelling-coat is made of the
warmest and softest stuff I could meet
with. It envelops me entirely from head
to foot, and when I am in my arm-chair,
with my hands in my pockets, I am very
like the statue of Vishnu one sees in the
pagodas of India.

The Travelling-coat. 133

You may, if you will, tax me with preju-
dice when I assert the influence a trav-
eller's costume exercises upon its wearer.
At any rate I can confidently affirm with
regard to this matter, that it would appear
to me as ridiculous to take a single step of
my journey round my room in uniform,
with my sword at my side, as it would to
go forth into the world in my dressing-
gown. Were I to find myself in full
military dress, not only should I be unable
to proceed with my journey, but I really
believe I should not be able to read what I
have written about my travels, still less to
understand it.

Does this surprise you 1 Do we not
every day meet with people who fancy
they are ill because they are unshaven, or
because some one has thought they have
looked poorly, and told them so } Dress
has such influence upon men's minds that
there are valetudinarians who think them-

134 yourney Round my Room.

selves in better health than usual when
they have on a new coat and well-pow-
dered wig. They deceive the public and
themselves by their nicety about dress,
until one finds some fine morning they
have died in full fig, and their death star-
tles everybody.

And in the class of men among whom I
live, how many there are who, finding
themselves clothed in uniform, firmly be-
lieve they are officers, until the unexpected
appearance of the enemy shows them their
mistake. And more than this, if it be the
king's good pleasure to allow one of them
to add to his coat a certain trimming, he
straightway believes himself to be a gen-
eral, and the whole army gives him the
title without any notion of making fun of
him ! So great an influence has a coat
upon the human imagination !

The following illustration will show still
further the truth of my assertion.

The Travelling-coat. 135

It sometimes happened that they forgot

to inform the Count de some days

beforehand of the approach of his turn to
mount guard. Early one morning, on the
very day on which this duty fell to the
Count, a corporal awoke him, and an-
nounced the disagreeable news. But the
idea of getting up there and then, putting
on his gaiters, and turning out without
having thought about it the evening be-
fore, so disturbed him that he preferred
reporting himself sick and staying at home
all day. So he put on his dressing-gown,
and sent away his barber. This made him
look pale and ill, and frightened his wife
and family. He really did feel a little
poorly.

He told every one he was not very well,
partly for the sake of appearances, and
partly because he positively believed him-
self to be indisposed. Gradually the influ-
ence of the dressing-gown began to work.

136-^4 Journey Round my Room.

The slops he was obliged to take upset his
stomach. His relations and friends sent
to ask after him. He was soon quite ill
enough to take to his bed.

In the evening Dr. Ranson^ found his
pulse hard and feverish, and ordered him
to be bled next day,

If the campaign had lasted a month
longer, the sick man's case would have
been past cure.

Now, who can doubt about the influence
of travelling-coats upon travellers, if he

reflect that poor Count de thought

more than once that he was about to per-
form a journey to the other world for
having inopportunely donned his dressing-
gown in this t

1 A popular Turin physician when the Voyage was
written.

XLII.

Aspasids Btiskin,

T WAS sitting near my fire after dinner,
enveloped in my habit de voyage,"
and freely abandoning myself to its in-
fluence : the hour for starting was, I knew,
drawing nigh ; but the fumes generated
by digestion rose to my brain, and so ob-
structed the channels along which thoughts
glide on their way from the senses, that
all communication between them was in-
tercepted. And as my senses no longer
transmitted any idea to my brain, the
latter, in its turn, could no longer emit

i;^S A Journey Round my Room.

any of that electric fluid with which the
ingenious Doctor ValH resuscitates dead
frogs.

After reading this preamble, you will
easily understand why my head fell on my
chest, and why the muscles of the thumb
and forefinger of my right hand, being no
longer excited by the electric fluid, became
so relaxed that a volume of the works
of the Marquis Caraccioli, which I was
holding tightly between these two fingers,
imperceptibly eluded my grasp, and fell
upon the hearth.

I had just had some callers, and my
conversation with the persons who had left
the room had turned upon the death of
Dr. Cigna, an eminent physician then
lately deceased. He was a learned and
hard-working man, a good naturalist, and a
famous botanist. My thoughts were occu-
pied with the merits of this skillful man.
And yet," I said to myself, were it

Aspasias Buskin. 139

possible for me to evoke the spirits of
those whom he has, perhaps, dismissed to
the other world, who knows but that his
reputation might suffer some diminution ? "

I travelled insensibly to a dissertation
on medicine and the progress it has made
since the time of Hippocrates. I asked
myself whether the famous personages of
antiquity who died in their beds, as Peri-
cles, Plato, the celebrated Aspasia, and
Hippocrates, died, after the manner of
ordinary mortals, of some putrid or inflam-
matory fever ; and whether they were bled,
and crammed with specifics.

To say why these four personages came
into my mind rather than any others, is
out of my power ; for who can give reasons
for what he dreams ? All that I can say is
that my soul summoned the doctor of Cos,
the doctor of Turin, and the famous states-
man who did such great things, and com-
mitted such grave faults.

i^o A Journey Round my Room.

But as to his graceful friend, I humbly
own that it was the other who beckoned
her to come. Still, however, when I think
of the interview, I am tempted to feel some
little pride, for it is evident that in this
dream the balance in favor of reason was
as four to one. Pretty fair this, methinks,
for a lieutenant.

However this may be, whilst giving my-
self up to the reflections I have described,
my eyes closed, and I fell fast asleep. But
upon shutting my eyes, the image of the
personages of whom I had been thinking,
remained painted upon that delicate can-
vas we call memory ; and these images,
mingling in my brain with the idea of the
evocation of the dead, it was not long
before I saw advancing in procession Hip-
pocrates, Plato, Pericles, Aspasia, and
Doctor Cigna in his bob-wig.

I saw them all seat themselves in chairs
ranged around the fire. Pericles alone
remained standing to read the newspapers.

Aspasias Buskin. 141

" If the discoveries of which you speak
were true," said Hippocrates to the doctor,
" and had they been as useful to the heal-
ing art as you affirm, I should have seen
the number of those who daily descend
to the gloomy realm of Pluto decrease ;
but the ratio of its inhabitants, according
to the registers of Minos which I have my-
self verified, remains still the same as
formerly."

Doctor Cigna turned to me and said :
" You have without doubt heard these
discoveries spoken of. You know that
Harvey discovered the circulation of the
blood ; that the immortal Spallanzani ex-
plained the process of digestion, the
mechanism of which is now well under-
stood ; " and he entered upon a long
detail of all the discoveries connected with
physic, and of the host of remedies for
which we are indebted to chemistry: in
short, he delivered an academical dis-
course in favor of modern medicine.

142 A Journey Round my Room.

" But am I to believe," I replied, " that
these great men were ignorant of all you
have been telling them, and that their
souls, having shuffled off this mortal coil,
still meet with any obscurities in nature ? "

" Ah ! how great is your error ! " ex-
claimed the proto-physician^ of the Pelo-
ponnesus. The mysteries of nature are as
closely hidden from the dead as from the
living. Of one thing we who linger on the
banks of the Styx are certain, that He who
created all things alone knows the great
secret which men vainly strive to solve.
And," added he, turning to the doctor, " do
be persuaded by me to divest yourself of
what still clings to you of the party-spirit
you have brought with you from the
sojourn of mortals. And since, seeing
that Charon daily ferries over in his boat
as many shades as heretofore, the labors of
a thousand generations and all the discov-

1 A title known at the Sardinian court.

Aspasias Buskin. 143

eries men have made have not been able to
prolong their existence, let us not uselessly
weary ourselves in defending an art which,
among the dead, cannot even profit its
practitioners."

Thus, to my great amazement, spoke the
famous Hippocrates.

Doctor Cigna smiled ; and as spirits
can neither withstand evidence, nor si-
lence truth, he not only agreed with Hip-
pocrates, but, blushing after the manner of
disembodied intelligences, he protested
that he had himself always had his doubts.

Pericles, who had drawn near the win-
dow, heaved a deep sigh, the cause of which
I divined. He was reading a number of
the " Moniteur," which announced the de-
cadence of the arts and sciences. He
saw illustrious scholars desert their sub-
lime conceptions to invent new crimes,
and shuddered at hearing a rabble herd
compare themselves with the heroes of

144 ^ Journey Round my Room.

generous Greece ; and this, forsooth, be-
cause they put to death, without shame or
remorse, venerable old men, women, and
children, and coolly perpetrated the black-
est and most useless crimes.

Plato, who had listened to our conversa-
tion without joining in it, and seeing it
brought to a sudden and unexpected close,
thus spoke : " I can readily understand
that the discoveries great men have made
in the various branches of natuial science
do not forward the art of medicine, which
can never change the course of nature,
except at the cost of life. But this will
certainly not be so with the researches
that have been made in the study of
politics. Locke's inquiries into the nature
of the human understanding, the invention
of printing, the accumulated observations
drawn from history, the number of excel-
lent books which have spread sound infor-
mation even among the lower orders, — so

Aspasias Buskin. 145

many wonders must have contributed to
make men better, and the happy republic I
conceived, which the age in which I Hved
caused me to regard as an impracticable
dream, no doubt now exists upon the
earth ? " At this question the honest
doctor cast down his eyes, and only an-
swered by tears. In wiping them with
his pocket-handkerchief, he involuntarily
moved his wig on one side, so that a part
of his face was hidden by it. " Ye gods ! "
exclaimed Aspasia, with a scream, "how
strange a sight ! And is it a discovery of
one of your great men that has led you to
the idea of turning another man's skull
into a head-dress } "

Aspasia, from whom our philosophical
dissertations had elicited nothing but
gapes, had taken up a magazine of fash-
ions which lay on the chimney-piece, the
leaves of which she had been turning over

for some time when the doctor's wig made
10

146 A Jotirney Round my Room.

her utter this exclamation. Finding the
narrow, ricketty seat upon which she was
sitting uncomfortable, she had, without the
least ceremony, placed her two bare legs,
which were adorned with bandelets, on the
straw-bottomed chair between her and me,
and rested her elbow upon the broad
shoulders of Plato.

It is no skull," said the doctor, ad-
dressing her, and taking off his wig, which
he threw on the fire, " it is a wig, madam ;
and I know not why I did not cast this
ridiculous ornament into the flames of
Tartarus when first I came among you.
But absurdities and prejudices adhere so
closely to our miserable nature that they
even follow us sometimes beyond the
grave.'* I took singular pleasure in seeing
the doctor thus abjure his physic and his
wig at the same moment.

" I assure you," said Aspasia, " that most
of the head-dresses represented in the

Aspasias Buskin. 147

pages I have been turning over deserve
the same fate as yours, so very extravagant
are they."

The fair Athenian amused herself vastly
in looking over the engravings, and was
very reasonably surprised by the variety
and oddity of modern contrivances. One
figure, especially struck her. It was that
of a young lady with a really elegant head-
dress which Aspasia only thought some-
what too high. But the piece of gauze
that covered the neck was so very full you
could scarcely see half her face. Aspasia,
not knowing that these extraordinary
developments were produced by starch,
could not help showing a surprise which
would have been redoubled (but inversely),
had the gauze been transparent.

But do explain," she said, " why
women of the present day seem to wear
dresses to hide rather than to clothe them.
They scarcely allow their faces to be seen,

148 A Journey Round my Room.

those faces by which alone their sex is
to be guessed, so strangely are their bod-
ies disfigured by the eccentric folds of
their garments. Among all the figures
represented in these pages, I do not find
one with the neck, arms, and legs bare.
How is it your young warriors are not
tempted to put an end to such a fashion ?
It would appear," she added, "that the
virtue of the women of this age, which
they parade in all their articles of dress,
greatly surpasses that of my contempora-
ries."

As she ended these words, Aspasia
turned her eyes on me as if to ask a reply.
I pretended not to notice this, and in order
to give myself an absent air, took up the
tongs and pushed away among the embers
the shreds of the doctor*s wig which had
escaped the flames. Observing presently
afterwards that one of the bandelets which
clasped Aspasia's buskin had come undone,

Aspasias Buskin. 149

" Permit me/' said I, " charming lady," —
and eagerly stooping, stretched out my
hands towards the chair on which I had
fancied I saw those legs about which even
great philosophers went into ecstacies.

I am persuaded that at this moment I
was very near genuine somnambulism, so
real was the movement of which I speak.
But Rose, who happened to be sleeping in
the chair, thought the movement was
meant for her, and jumping nimbly into
my arms, she drove back into Hades the
famous shades my travelling-coat had
summoned.

Liberty,

T^ELIGHTFUL realm of Imagination,
which the benevolent Being has be-
stowed upon man to console him for the
disappointments he meets with in real life.

This day, certain persons on whom I am
dependent affect to restore me to liberty.
As if they had ever deprived me of it ! As
if it were in their power to snatch it from
me for a single moment, and to hinder me
from traversing, at my own good pleasure,
the vast space that ever lies open before
me ! They have forbidden me to go at
large in a city, a mere speck, and have left
open to me the whole universe, in which
immensity and eternity obey me.

I am now free, then ; or rather, I must
enter again into bondage. The yoke of

Liberty. 1 5 1

office is again to weigh me down, and
every step I take must conform with the
exigencies of pohteness and duty. Fortu-
nate shall I be if some capricious goddess
do not again make me forget both, and if I
escape from this new and dangerous cap-
tivity.

O why did they not allow me to finish
my captivity ! Was it as a punishment
that I was exiled to my chamber, to that
delightful country in which abound all the
riches and enjoyments of the world ? As
well might they consign a mouse to a
granary.

Still, never did I more clearly perceive
that I am double than I do now. Whilst
I regret my imaginary joys, I feel myself
consoled. I am borne along by an unseen
power which tells me I need the pure air,
and the light of heaven, and that solitude is
like death. Once more I don my custom-
ary garb ; my door opens ; I wander under

152 A Journey Round my Room.

the spacious porticos of the Strada della
Po ; a thousand agreeable visions float be-
fore my eyes. Yes, there is that mansion,
that door, that staircase ! I thrill with
expectation.

In like manner the act of slicing a
lemon gives you a foretaste that makes
your mouth water.

Poor ANIMAL ! Take care !

try

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